


The Bunny Farm

by SlimReaper



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, I Blame Tumblr, M/M, Major Character Death Mention (not shown), Multi, Other, Prompt Fill, Shorts, Tags May Change, The Transformers: More Than Meets the Eye (IDW), Tumblr Prompt, Wakes & Funerals, did they or didn't they?, iopele
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 06:18:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5080906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlimReaper/pseuds/SlimReaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here are the various ficlets and prompts I've written on tumblr as iopele, collected in one place with no semblance of order or coherency. Chapter titles are the prompts, which were to consist of a Transformer and a single word. Specific warnings will be noted in author notes at the beginning of each chapter. (many thanks to Rayearthmagic for the great title!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ratchet and alcohol ~ submitted by Rizobact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of alcohol use and poor decisions made while drunk.

Tiny mecha with jackhammers were busy rearranging the inside of his cranial case, and whoever was in charge of this project had clearly been generous with the dynamite, too.

Ratchet groaned and cradled his aching helm in his arms. Frag, when Swerve had invited him to try his latest engex cocktail invention  _on the house,_  he should’ve turned around right then and left the bar. His Party-Ambulance days were long in his past and this wouldn’t be the first time his frame reminded him of that fact, but it might be the most painful. When was the last time he’d even  _had_  a hangover? His fuel tank churned and Ratchet threw himself onto his side, not wanting to choke if this turned out to be more than mere nausea.

Only to freeze when the movement rolled him right into another mech’s frame.

 _Oh, smelt me down,_  he thought, and thought it again with a few extra curse words for emphasis when his HUD informed him that his self-diagnostic system was offline after he attempted to use it to find out if he’d fragged whoever was in his berth.

Well, if he couldn’t check his interface array for signs of use, he’d have to do this the old fashioned way. Putting it off wouldn’t make it any better so he onlined his optics and made himself look at his maybe-one-night-stand.

Whirl looked back at him and really it was amazing how much wicked amusement could be expressed by a single yellow optic. He stretched and laced his claws together behind his helm, reclining at ease in his berth–and yes, this was Whirl’s berth, not Ratchet’s, although whether that made things better or worse was up in the air. 

“Mornin’, doc,” the rotormech said, his voice dripping with glee. “Bet you’ve got a question you’re just  _dying_ to ask me, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ratchet croaked. “What the  _frag_  did Swerve put in that drink?”


	2. Megatron, try again ~ submitted by candiedtentacles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings apply.

A fresh start. A new beginning. A clean slate.  _Forgiveness._

There were a hundred ways to say it, and all of them sounded as alluring as they were out of reach. No matter what pretty words Optimus Prime said, Megatron knew better. There was no such thing as a new beginning for the likes of him. Never had been, never would be.

But maybe… just maybe… it wasn’t too late to remember what he’d originally wanted to do, the equality he’d once so passionately espoused. And while he held no illusions that he wouldn’t be the one to accomplish it, maybe he could set another on the path he’d meant to walk. The goal remained and all that mattered was that someone reached it.

And that was the thought that got him out of his cold berth every day on the _Lost Light_ , made him face the Autobots who despised him, and try again.


	3. Ratchet, eternal ~ submitted by jenn-oddballpunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major character death mentioned, violence mentioned, aftermath of Overlord's rampage through the _Lost Light,_ mentions of torture.

Ratchet crossed his arms over his chest at the back of the room and tried not to scowl too noticeably, but dammit, it was hard when he had to listen to drivel like this. Rodimus was outdoing himself with the spiritual nonsense. Actually, Drift had probably written this speech for him. Wouldn’t be surprising. It sounded like his flavor of idiocy.

His thoughts were wandering enough for his control over his faceplates to slip and Ratchet pulled his features back into a more neutral expression, but it was hard. Hard to stare up there at those six memorials, hard to see Chromedome sitting rigid and still with his new arm still protoform-bare, hard to remember dangling from Overlord’s hand like a broken toy while he held Drift’s Great Sword with the other and taunted the swordsmech with his helplessness. Hard to remember how he’d drawn out Ratchet’s death and Drift’s pain, smiling with genuine pleasure as he tore through the Lost Light’s crew like it was his favorite game.

Ratchet hadn’t been able to see much of anything just then–getting beaten to scrap wasn’t great for things like optical acuity–but he couldn’t help but see Drift’s desperate efforts to do something. Overlord had pinned Drift’s legs to the deck with his shortswords, and he’d laughed delightedly and turned Ratchet to watch the swordsmech strain to pull the swords free. He’d finally torn his own legs off in a last attempt to get to Overlord, to attack one more time even as he bled out, to give his life to save Ratchet’s. That attempt could only fail, and  _would_ have failed if the cavalry had arrived a handful of seconds later.

He shuddered and caught a glimpse of white armor in the front row, helm bowed, hands just visible gripping his own shoulders tightly, and Ratchet wondered if Drift was remembering the same moment.

For as many times as he’d dismissed Drift’s faith as weakness, Ratchet thought he might just be the strongest mech he’d ever known.

Rodimus was still speaking but this time Ratchet could find no bitterness for his words. If hearing that eternal life awaited the fallen was soothing for those left behind, well, they had little enough of that kind of comfort lately. Ratchet wouldn’t begrudge them that.


	4. Blurr, snore ~ submitted by LadyDragon76

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of alcohol use

Starscream didn’t bother hiding his smirk as he lounged in the half-moon shaped booth closest to the bar, stretching his long legs across the bench and draping his arm along the back to fully occupy it. His body language shouted that he hadn’t come to Maccadam’s tonight looking for company, but even so, he’d already had to turn down three idiots who apparently believed the old rumor that  _Seeker = easy frag_ , and some kind of heavy hauler-frame across the way kept shooting him looks from the corner of his optics. Clearly he was going for  _smouldering sexy_  but he was achieving something closer to  _cross-eyed seasick,_  and if he ever worked up the nerve to actually approach him, Starscream was looking forward to telling him so.

But right now, the best entertainment was happening at the bar. “Maybe it’s your fuel. Have you changed blends lately?” Tankor was asking, looking at a visibly tired Blurr with concerned optics.

“No, I get race-grade energon just for him,” Swindle answered before Blurr could. He shot his partner a sour glance. “Costs a bomb, too, especially how you’ve been going through it lately.”

Blurr shrugged, but it was telling that he didn’t answer at his usual warp speed. “I only use what I need, and I more than earn the cost,” he replied with a bland ease that showed that this wasn’t the first time they’d had this discussion.

“Well you apparently need a lot more recently,” Swindle snapped. “It’s cutting into our profits, Blurr, and–”

“Blurr drinks more fuel, still looks bad,” Waspinator chimed in. “Waspinator worries.”

“Are you not recharging well?” someone else asked, and Blurr shrugged.

“Same as ever. I haven’t noticed anything different.”

Starscream took a sip of his engex and held it up to admire the way its glow refracted through the energy field of the cube. “You snore when you recharge on your back,” he announced pleasantly, which silenced the little group around the bar instantly. “You can’t properly recharge with your engine choking like that. In fact,  _I_ can’t properly recharge with your engine choking like that either.”

Blurr turned to stare at him, but Starscream just raised one optic ridge in silent challenge. The speedster’s optics narrowed in a glare that promised retribution for this as he said, “Well, if _someone’s_  wings didn’t take up the entire berth, it wouldn’t be a problem, now would it!”

“Wouldn’t be a problem at all if you slept over at my place,” Starscream returned.

“Your place is at the top of a tower!”

“I offered to carry you up there–”

“And drop me out the window the first time you get your wings in a snit? I don’t  _think_  so–”

“I do  _not_ get in a snit! Just because  _you_  didn’t want anyone to know–”

“And you just had to wreck that, didn’t you–”

Swindle poured a line of his highest-proof engex into shot glasses and passed them out to the rest of the traumatized mecha who were watching Blurr and Starscream shout at each other. “On the house,” he said weakly.


End file.
